


The Fire Pit

by compo67



Series: Chicago Verse [29]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Series, Slice of Life, Squabbling, Summer Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2095146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean spend a quiet evening on their back porch, beside the fire pit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fire Pit

The taqueria Dean loves gets shut down by the health inspector for roaches and unsanitary conditions. For three days, Sam is smug and deliberately eats tacos from his favorite place right in front of Dean.

"I told you there was a reason the tacos were so cheap there."

They're sitting on the back porch, poking at the small portable fire pit Dean paid two neighborhood kids to haul over from the Home Depot on Ashland. July has cooled, but the night is muggy. Sam can smell the rain even through the smoke.

"Let it go," Dean grumbles, folding his arms over his chest.

Both taquerias are across the street from one another, on 18th and Ashland. It's a busy intersection, but it's a local intersection. The Pink Line 18th Street stop is a place where Sam sees their neighbors on their commutes, and it's an opportunity for people to catch up while waiting for the next train. Standing on the rickety wood platform at six in the morning, Sam has received invitations to barbeques, asadas, quinceañeras, communions, confirmations, and evenings on the porches of his neighbors' homes, just trying to see who can tell the best story over a few beers.

A pie iron goes unused between them, meant for making s’mores or grilled cheese. Tonight, however, it's just them and the fire.

This weekend, their presence is expected at the communion of Mrs. Larsen's youngest daughter. Sam knows that Dean has already gotten her a gift--cash and a Precious Moments figurine--but Dean doesn't know that Sam knows, so he's going to bring it up the day before and act surprised when the gifts are revealed.

Motel rooms don't let guests have fire pits.

"Roaches, dude." Sam looks over. Sunlight is a sliver; the angles of Dean's face are softened by the fire. Something corny should be said--out loud or by action--about the fire between them, but that can wait until later. "Roaches as big as your face."

An official statement was released by the restaurant owner, who is the third generation owner, having inherited the taqueria from his grandfather. However, the statement blamed the health inspector and the health department for changing its standards. Bottom line was sorry not sorry for the roaches, the raw meat on taco lettuce, the fruit flies, the roaches in the building, the waitresses never washing their hands in an eight hour shift, and the meat kept at a warm and cozy fifty six degrees.

No real apology was given for the two cases of food poisoning that were reported to the health department. Thankfully, Dean was not one of those cases. But that's mainly because Sam cut him off from all taquerias until he got his cholesterol back to a normal level. Nagging works—eventually. Besides, Sam can't let go of an "I told you so" moment.

Tomorrow morning holds in store a trip to the farmer's market two blocks away. They'll head over with cash in their pockets, with crisp bills from the ATM, and the hand cart on wheels that starts off empty but ends up brimming with their haul of the day. The list on the fridge, written in scrawl on a yellow post-it, has the word tomatoes underlined three times. They've been out for a week; every time someone goes to the store, they keep forgetting.

Mosquitos are starting to appear. They'll need to put out the fire soon if they want to avoid getting eaten. The last thing Sam needs is Dean scratching at himself in his sleep, knocking his elbow into Sam's ribs in the process.

Leaning back in his chair, getting comfortable, Dean turns towards Sam.

Sam can make tacos out of lean meat with less salt and more flavor. He opened up a cookbook, burned himself and the food more than a few times, but in the end, he figured some shit out. Not so useless after all.

At first, Dean's eyes linger on Sam's tongue, which is peeking out just slightly from his teeth. A few seconds later, those same eyes lock with Sam's.

The fire snaps.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut the fuck up."

 

**Author's Note:**

> i've changed to put my notes at the bottom of fics from now on. we'll see if this has some kind of effect? idk. i like interacting with y'all, and i feel like i do that through my notes and the comments. i would hate to lose that. :/
> 
> the taqueria incident did actually happen this past week. D8 i've only eaten there once, and that was two years ago, so i think i got roach-free food. phew.
> 
> also, fire pits are amazing. XD
> 
> hope y'all enjoy! this is the first thing i've been able to write since my terrible writer's block! ;w;


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